


Give Me An Hour

by hideunspoken



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 14:02:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hideunspoken/pseuds/hideunspoken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The flirting was always there, like a presence in the room that made the ring on Kurt’s finger feel just a little heavier. At first, he was overcompensating with friendliness for his initial behavior. He smiled a little brighter, praised Elliott for his talent, and worked to make him feel included. It was innocent."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me An Hour

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Infidelity

The flirting was always there, like a presence in the room that made the ring on Kurt’s finger feel just a little heavier. At first, he was overcompensating with friendliness for his initial behavior. He smiled a little brighter, praised Elliott for his talent, and worked to make him feel included. It was innocent.

            He couldn’t help but notice, though, how Elliott reciprocated the praise just as fervently and responded to Kurt’s smiles with his own, grins where his lips stretched wide and his cheeks bunched up to his eyes—and when he smiled while wearing  _glasses_ , well, Kurt can understate it and say he looks mildly adorable. Then, sometimes Elliott got that look in his eyes when they were all singing, and Kurt couldn’t help but be a little distracted; Santana may have called him out on his obvious flubs once or twice.

            It was harmless—for a while, at least. And when it stopped being so harmless and Kurt started swirling in the confusion of his own emotions, he did his best to ignore it. He ignored how his smiles took on a different quality when Elliott was around and how his heart did a betraying flutter every time his phone lit up with  _Elliott Gilbert_  across the screen. It was all innocent, he repeated in his head every time he caught himself thinking of Elliott after he texted Blaine good night.

 

         

             It’s after their first gig that it happened.

            They were all crowded around a table of the near-empty bar they had performed for; it was slightly lame, but a couple of their NYADA friends showed up, so spirits were still high.

            Their fingers linked automatically when Kurt pulled Elliott up mid-laugh, proclaiming that the next round of shots was on him, but Elliott had to be the extra muscle to bring everything back.  Kurt gently freed his fingers when they reached the bar, letting his hand fall to his side when he thought about how it might look—he wasn’t nearly tipsy enough to blame the extra flirting and closeness on anything but his own desire.

            He placed the order with the bartender before turning back to Elliott, his mouth opening to comment on a song they should add to their set list, but he was cutoff before he began.

            “I like you,” Elliott said, the words tumbling off his lips gracefully. He looked nervous but confident, his eyes shining in the low light of the bar. Kurt just stared for a moment, the smile on his lips fading slowly, and he couldn’t be sure what his facial expression revealed. He was terrified, mostly, because he wasn’t expecting it, and Elliott went and put their thing into words where Kurt had to face it, not allowed to pretend anymore.

            “I—”

            “Not like a fellow band member,” Elliott interrupted, reaching out and lacing their fingers together. It felt different, tighter than before, less friendly and just  _more_ —more of what, Kurt couldn’t put into words. Elliott’s thumb swiped across the back of Kurt’s hand when he spoke, but Kurt was so focused on the metal curled around his finger, pressed close against Elliott’s skin. “I think you’re amazing. You’re hilarious and charming and gorgeous, and performing with you is incredible. I like you, and coming to band practice and hanging out afterwards is the best part of my week. Texting you when I’m on the subway or when you’re stuck in a boring class or when we just have to tell the other something right away…they’re the best parts of my day.  _You’re_  the best part of my day.”

            “I like you, too,” Kurt said immediately after Elliott finished speaking. He didn’t follow it up with a beautiful, heart-felt speech, but he said it.

            He said it and offered up those four words like a gift, all he could give to Elliott in that exact moment, standing face to face, leaning against a sticky bar with nothing but musty smoke separating their faces. He offered an acknowledgement of the truth, of everything he had tried to not admit to himself. And it was giving everything.

*

*

*

It had been two full weeks since Kurt told Elliott he liked him back. Two weeks, three band practices, countless neutral texts where neither had spoken of anything that wasn’t strictly platonic.

            Kurt was scared; he could admit that at the very least. He didn’t know what happened from here, whether they ignored it like nothing or whether they talked or  _something_. It seemed like Elliott was going with the route of ignoring it, so Kurt just followed suit.

            One Wednesday night, though, Kurt took the initiative, texting Elliott and inviting him over. He said yes, of course, and Kurt forced himself onto the couch to resist any urge to pace while he waited.

 

            There was a habit of Kurt’s; anytime he brought out the bleach to start scrubbing or whenever he got his cleansers ready for his skin care routine, the ring came off. He had a crystal ring holder on his dresser that played its home for about a half an hour each day, innocently keeping his ring safe for him until it was slid back into place.

            He couldn’t help but feel the guilt as he rose from the couch, gliding swiftly into his room and standing in front of the dresser mirror. He watched himself for a moment, tugging on the ring ever so slightly, feeling it glide off easily with no resistance. He couldn’t stand the image anymore, looking down as the ring slid around the glass pole and refusing to glance back into the mirror before retreating back to the living room.

*

            The knocks on the door were almost familiar, Kurt noticed, recognizing the oddity of such an observation. He paused in front of the door, steeling in a few calming breaths before realizing the awkwardness that Elliott had probably heard him approach and pause, so Kurt ended up whipping the door open quicker than expected.

            He’d known Elliott for about a few months, talked to him, hung out with him, but he was still occasionally caught up in his smile, the way Elliott just made him feel like every grin and dimple and twinkle of his eyes was all for Kurt; he drowned in it.

            “Can I come in?” Elliott asked, and it broke Kurt out of what he soon realized was a minor staring episode. He shook himself quickly into attentiveness, opening the door wider.

            “Yeah, yeah. Hi.”

            “Hi.”

            “I, um, I don’t really have groceries right now or anything, but do you maybe want to get some takeout or pizza or something?”

            “Sure, I mean, anything’s good with me. Where are the girls?” Elliott asked, glancing around the empty loft. Kurt turned, swiftly busying himself with the takeout menu drawer.

            “Oh, uh, they’re not here. Rachel’s at work, and Santana’s at Dani’s.”

            “Oh?  _Oh._ ”

            “Yeah. I would’ve said, I mean, I should’ve mentioned that, I guess, but I thought it’d just be us if that’s okay?”

            “Yes, yes, completely okay.” Kurt spared a glance at that, and the unbridled enthusiasm in Elliott’s eyes calmed his nerves enough to casually glance through the menus together, sides completely pressed against each other as they leant against the kitchen counter.

"So what are the plans for tonight?" Elliott asked hesitantly once their order had been placed and they made their way to the couch.

"Well, dinner. Then, I don’t know, maybe a movie or something?” The uncertainty in his voice was clear, and oh god, now that he thought about it, the  _or something_ may have sounded too suggestive or presumptuous, and yeah, okay, Kurt just needed to not speak for a moment.

“Dibs on picking the movie?” Elliott asked with that soft, flirty grin of his, moving toward the DVD stack hopefully.

Kurt hummed in affirmation, chuckling lightly as he followed.

*

Kurt didn’t  _plan_  anything, exactly—he was pretty sure pre-meditated cheating would be way worse for his conscience (but, oh god, who was he kidding?). So, no, nothing was explicitly planned aside from a platonic night between two friends who, maybe perhaps, had admitted to liking each other, but they were barely through the opening credits of the film Elliott had finally decided on when Kurt found himself completely incapable of concentrating.

He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, glancing back and forth from the television screen to the front door—because  _really_ , where was the food? He needed something to do with his hands already—back to the movie, and then sparing an occasional glance to the line of Elliott’s jaw and moving back quickly before he was noticed.

It was on one of his glances to Elliott that he was caught, eyes locking before Kurt could try and look away awkwardly. A blush spilled onto his cheeks as he stared resolutely forward, but before he could so much as take a breath to settle himself, he felt fingertips brushing his cheek, gently turning his face back to Elliott’s.

Swooping in quickly, Elliott placed a firm kiss against his lips, slightly off center and with wispy hints of awkwardness.  Their lips stayed captured within each other’s, silent and still for the smallest moment that Kurt let himself soak in.

            “Was—is this okay?” Elliott asked tentatively, pulling back only slightly, his hand still warm and strong against Kurt’s cheek.

            “Y-yeah,” Kurt breathed out, letting his eyes slide shut and pressing his lips forward, insistently now. He let himself get lost in roaming his hands across Elliott’s chest, broad and firm, down to the hem of his shirt, hands dipping under the cloth and exploring warm skin under his fingertips.

*

And if the takeout food ended up untouched on the counter for several hours, well, Kurt wasn’t all that hungry anyway. 


End file.
